#  FRANCIS  MACARY  ^ 

THE  CABINET-MAKER  OF  LAVAUR. 


HENRY  LASSERRE. 


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FRANCIS  MACARY, 


THE  CABINET-MAKER  OF  LAVAUR. 


FRANCIS  MACARY 


THE  CABINET-MAKER  OF  LAVAUR 


BY 

HENRI  LASSERRE 


With  the  Author’s  Approval 


BOSTOW  COTJ/FOK  MIY 

CHKbTJN  U  a 


NOTRE  DAME,  INDIANA: 

THE  AVE  MARIA. 


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FRANCIS  MACARY, 

THE  CABINET-MAKER  OF  LAVAUR. 


I. 

RANCIS  MACARY,  the  cabinet-maker’s 
apprentice,  was  a  good-humored  fel¬ 
low.  He  had  a  lively  and  jovial 
disposition,  and  none  more  than  he  was 
ever  ready  for  fun  and  merriment.  Sprightly 
and  active,  he  had  travelled  through  France; 
he  had  been  at  Nantes,  Cambrav,  Nimes, 
Marseilles,  and  Lyons.  He  was  a  skilful 
workman,  and  it  was  not  long  before  he 
passed  his  apprenticeship  and  became  a 
master  in  his  trade. 

A  good  workman  and  a  gay  companion, 
he  loved  labor  and  did  not  despise  pleasure. 
No  prejudices  restrained  him.  His  course 
of  philosophy  had  been  completed  with  the 
reading  of  a  few  romances  and  infidel  papers, 
and  not  a  vestige  of  superstition  remained 
to  trouble  him.  He  had  thrown  to  the 
winds  all  the  faith  he  ever  possessed;  and 
thus  disencumbered  himself  of  any  baggage, 


FRANCIS  MACARY, 


-  6 

that  lie  might  journey  through  life  with  a 
more  active  gait. 

While  he  travelled  around  in  order  to 
perfect  himself  in  his  trade,  his  free  -  thinking 
became  more  and  more  liberal.  He  never 
entered  a  church.  He  never  sang  a  hymn; 
there  were  other  songs  that  had  his  prefer¬ 
ence.  When  some  of  the  good  women  with 
whom  he  used  to  board  would  speak  to 
him  of  prayer,  he  would  say  to  these  “ Pater¬ 
noster  reciters”:  “Prayer!  to  work  is  to 
pray.”  In  saying  these  words,  he  never 
thought  that  the  reverse  was  true :  To  pray 
is  to  work.  * 

In  matters  of  religion,  as  in  everything 
else,  his  impetuous  character  could  bear 
with  neither  tepidity  nor  moderation;  and 
so  in  a  short  time  Macary  had  broken 
down  the  weak  barrier  which  separates 
indifference  from  open  infidelity. 

It  must  be  acknowledged,  however,  that 
otherwise  he  was  good  enough, — hot-headed 
but  warm-hearted.  Frank  and  prepossess¬ 
ing,  always  ready  to  oblige  any  of  his 
comrades,  true  as  gold,  endowed  with  that 
natural  wit  and  poetic  fire  so  characteristic 


THE  CABINET-MAKER  OF  LAVAUR.  7 

of  southerners,  Francis  Macary  was  every¬ 
where  welcome.  He  knew  how  to  sym¬ 
pathize  with  the  sufferings  of  others;  he 
was  quick  to  help  the  weak  with  his  strong 
arms,  and  with  his  meagre  purse  to  assist 
the  poor. 

He  was  as  inflammable  as  gunpowder, 
and  flew  into  a  passion  at  the  slightest 
provocation.  The  least  contradiction — a 
broken  plane,  an  unsteady  bench,  a  knotty 
board,  —  would  call  forth  a  cry  of  impa¬ 
tience,  which  was  invariably  an  oath  or 
a  blasphemy.  Never  did  the  parrot  Vert- 
Vert — like  Macary,  perverted  by  travel — 
give  utterance  to  more  horrible  imprecations 
than  those  which  from  morning  till  night, 
intermingled  with  the  grinding  of  saws  and 
the  blows  of  the  hammer,  resounded  in  the 
workshop  of  Francis  Macary. 

H. 

In  1833,  after  eight  years  passed  in  travel¬ 
ling  from  city  to  city,  the  journeyman 
cabinet-maker  returned  to  Lavaur,*  his 


*  Lavaur  is  a  sub -prefecture  in  the  department  of 


FRANCIS  MACARY, 


9 

i 

native  city.  He  had  just  enough  of  Chris¬ 
tianity  left  to  desire  to  receive  the  Sacrament 
of  Matrimony  according  to  the  rites  of  the 
Church. 

Before  going  farther,  we  may  say  that, 
although  he  rejected  for  himself,  and  for 
men  in  general,  all  thought  of  devotion, 
he  maintained,  and  with  great  warmth, 
that  women  should  be  pious.  And  when 
others  sought  to  argue  with  him  on  this 
subject  and  to  expose  this  contradiction  of 
principles,  he  brought  forward  the  most 
unexpected  arguments. 

“When  I  went  to  school,”  he  would  reply, 
laughingly,  “I  learned  in  my  grammar  that 
religion  —  la  religion  — was  of  the  feminine, 
not  the  masculine  gender.” 

“But  if  you  find  that  religion  is  good 

and  suitable  for  women,  why  is  it  not 

\ 

suitable  for  men,  and  why  do  not  you 
yourself  practise  it?” 

“You  might  just  as  well  say  that  because 

Tarn.  Before  the  Revolution,  this  tittle  town  of  seven 
or  eight  thousand  was  an  episcopal  see,  and  had  the 
honor  to  count  amongst  its  Bishops  the  illustrious 
Flechier,  who  later  was  promoted  to  the  see  of  Nimes, 


THE  CABINET-MAKER  OF  LAVAUR.  9 

I  find  that  a  dress  is  very  becoming  to 
women,  I  should  therefore  put  on  petticoats 

mvself !  ” 

«/ 

The  real  truth,  hidden  under  these  subtle 
pleasantries  and  these  paradoxical  replies, 
was  that  Macary,  who  was  a  great  ob¬ 
server  of  human  nature,  had,  in  his  travels, 
remarked  that  good  Christian  women  made 
the  best  wives,  and  that  this  was  quite  the 
reverse  with  maidens  without  religion. 

Shortly  after  his  return  to  Lavaur,  he  led 
to  the  altar  a  young  and  pious  workwoman, 
who  seemed  expressly  adapted  to  make  him 
happy.  She  had  grace  and  devotedness,  and 
other  charming  qualities.  A  fervent  Catholic, 
and  tenderly  loving  her  husband,  she  wished 
to  lead  Francis  back  to  the  bosom  of  the 
Church.  She  had  prepared  a  short  apostolic 
discourse,  which,  one  evening  as  they  were 
walking  together  under  the  trees,  beneath 
the  soft  rays  of  the  moon,  she  began  to 
deliver  to  him.  But  the  workman  soon  cut 
short  this  homily. 

“My  dear  little  Virginie,”  he  said,  “I  love 
you  very  much,  and  you  preach  very  well, — 
almost  as  well  as  the  cure.  But  if  I  do 


10 


FRANCIS  MACARY, 


not  attend  the  sermons  in  the  church,  it  is 
because  I  do  not  like  them.  It  is,  therefore, 
useless  to  bring  them  home  to  me.  I  have 
my  ideas  fixed  —  fixed  like  my  heart,  dear, 
which  is  wholly  yours.  In  place  of  preaching 
to  me,  be  satisfied  with  loving  me,  and  in 
being  loved  in  return.  Do  not  commit  the 
fault  of  striving  to  force  your  beliefs  on  your 
husband,  of  teasing  him  at  every  moment 
to  go  to  Mass,  or  confession,  or  his  Easter 
duty.  Do  not  compromise  our  peace  by 
seeking  to  direct  and  govern  him  whom  you 
should  obey.  We  should  only  have  continual 
disputes,  and  all  would  end  in  making  me 
set  against  religion  even  in  women.” 

Tears  came  into  the  eyes  of  poor  Virginie. 

“Come,”  said  Francis,  embracing  her,  “let 
us  talk  no  more  on  the  subject,  or  rather  do 
not  speak  of  it  again.  If  you  find  that  I 
have  but  little  religion,  I  willingly  grant 
that  you  have  much.  Your  good  God  will 
lose  nothing  on  His  part,  nor  I  on  mine. 
Let  us  both  do  our  own  duties  in  the  man¬ 
agement  of  the  household,  my  dear  little 
wife.  I  shall  work  for  you,  and  you  will 
pray  for  me.  My  labor  and  the  sweat  of 


THE  CABINET-MAKER  OF  LAVAUR.  11 


my  brow  will  be  given  for  you,  and  your 
prayers  will  be  said  for  me.” 

Virginie  was  intelligent.  She  understood — 
what  many  women  seem  to  be  ignorant  of— 
that  the  conversion  of  her  husband  was  not 
to  be  effected  by  continually  pressing  and 
insisting  with  many  words, — means  which 
are  rarely  effectual,  and  oftentimes  hazard¬ 
ous;  but  by  the  safer  and  more  patient  way, 
although  more  difficult  to  follow,  of  Christian 
virtues  daily  and  hourly  practised,  with  in¬ 
creasing  perfection,  at  home;  by  the  way  of 
persevering  prayer,  incessantly  knocking  at 
the  gates  of  Heaven.  Burying  her  trouble 
in  her  heart,  she  maintained  henceforth .  an 
absolute  silence  on  this  delicate  subject. 

“ I  will  be  silent,”  she  said  to  herself.  “I 
shall  pray,  and  await  the  hour  of  grace. 
My  only  sermon  will  be  to  make  myself 
better  and  to  make  him  happy.” 

Francis  Macary  was  happy.  But  happi¬ 
ness  is  a  fugitive  bird.  Scarcely  have  we 
touched  it  when  it  suddenly  flies  away  and 
is  hidden  in  the  branches  above  us.  Such 
was,  alas!  the  short-lived  happiness  of  the 
cabinet-maker  of  Lavaur, 


12 


FRANCIS  MACARY, 


Macarv  had  been  married  but  a  few 
•/ 

months  when  a  malady,  the  first  symptoms 
of  which  had  appeared  during  the  last  period 
of  his  travels,  began  to  assume  more  alarm¬ 
ing  proportions.  The  veins  in  his  limbs 
became  very  much  swollen.  It  is  well  known 
what  a  painful  affliction  this  is.  The  sufferer 
is  unable  to  stand  without  experiencing 
great  weakness  and  pain.  Macary  was  now 
to  know  this  practically. 

Always  hard  on  himself,  he  began  to  fight 
against  his  bodily  infirmity.  “My  legs  are 
lazy,”  he  would  say.  “They  want  to  get 
up  late,  go  to  bed  early,  and  do  nothing. 
If  they  were  two  servants,  I  would  discharge 
them  and  employ  others.  But  since  I  must 
keep  them,  I  will  try  their  temper  so  well 
that  I  shall  force  them  in  spite  of  themselves 
to  do  their  duty.” 

And  doing  violence  to  himself  every  day, 
sawing  and  planing  as  usual,  he  obstinately 
refused  to  consult  a  physician.  In  this  way, 
some  years  passed  by,  until  an  incident — 
the  illness  of  his  mother — brought  Doctor 
Rossignol  to  his  house. 

“Well,  Francis,”  said  the  latter,  “you  are 


THE  CABINET-MAKER  OF  LAVAUR.  13 


never  tired.  As  often  as  I  pass  in  the  street 
I  always  see  you  at  work.” 

“Never  tired?”  answered  Macary.  “Not 
exactly.  In  the  morning  I  am  hardly  able  to 
stand,  and  during  the  whole  day  my  limbs 
are  like  lead,  with  sharp,  darting  pains  as 
if  you  pierced  me  with  your  lancet.  In  the 
evening  they  are  all  inflamed.” 

“My  friend,  you  work  too  much.” 

“That’s  the  way  the  rich  talk!  A  poor 
man  never  works  enough.  My  little  girl 
and  my  boy  already  eat  like  wolves.” 

“  Have  you  not  a  large  vein  running  down 
your  thigh?” 

“I  have  two  enormous  ones:  one  on  each 
leg.” 

“Let  me  see.  They  are  varicose  veins,” 
said  the  Doctor,  after  examining  them. 
“They  are  indeed  enormous,  and  threaten 
to  assume  altogether  abnormal  proportions. 
There  are  also  large  tumors  with  marked 
obstructions.  You  willjiave  to  take  great 
precautions.” 

“What  must  I  do?”  asked  Macary. 

“You  will  have  to  compress  your  limbs 
with  linen  bandages  and  wear  dog-skin 


14 


FRANCIS  MACARY, 


gaiters.  At  the  same  time  you  must  rest, 
and  lie  down  on  feeling  the  least  fatigue.’ ’ 

The  window-panes  rattled  at  the  terrible 
oath  uttered  by  Macary. 

“I  quit  work  and  only  twenty -six  years 
old!  You  would  make  Francis  Macary  a 
fine  father  of  a  family.  You — you  mock 
me!”  It  was  with  difficulty  he  restrained 
himself  from  taking  the  Doctor  by  the  shoul¬ 
ders  and  pitching  him  out  of  the  house. 

He  continued  to  follow  his  own  course,  but 
the  malady  rapidly  grew  worse.  Macary 
consulted  another  physician,  one  of  the 
Benevolent  Society  of  St.  Louis,  of  which 
he  was  a  member.  Doctor  Segur  spoke  in 
the  same  way  as  Doctor  Rossignol. 

“If  you  do  not  follow  my  advice,  you  will 
soon  be  a  helpless  invalid.  You  will  be  an 
old  man  at  forty.” 

Now,  Macary  had  withal  good  common 
sense.  The  perfect  agreement  of  the  twro 
physicians,  and  in  addition  his  pains  and 
sufferings,  which  were  becoming  intolerable, 
brought  him  to  his  senses.  But  it  was  not 
without  storms  of  fury  and  dreadful  im¬ 
precations  that  he  consented  to  follow  the 


THE  cabinet-maker  of  lavaur.  15 


Doctor’s  prescriptions,  and  rested  from  time 
to  time.  His  legs,  from  the  big  toe  to  the 
knee,  were  compressed  in  linen  bandages, 
and  he  wore  dog  -  skin  gaiters,  tightly 
laced. 

i 

In  spite  of  these  precautions,  ,  the  disease 
progressed  from  year  to  year.  About  the 
age  of  thirty  -  five  or  forty,  the  two  saphena 
veins  were  so  greatly  swollen  as  to  project 
about  the  thickness  of  a  finger.  Large 
tumors  formed:  one  as  large  as  an  egg. 
When  the  bandages  were  removed  they  ap¬ 
peared  like  enormous  wens.  Later  they 
formed  ulcers,  and  recourse  was  had  to 
dressings  with  lint  and  cerate. 

The  unfortunate  man  was  now  unable  to 
work  more  than  a  few  hours  every  day. 
Often  it  happened  that  he  was  obliged  to 
stop  work  for  a  month  or  longer,  and  keep 
to  his  bed,  or  rest  in  an  invalid  -  chair  covered 
with  a  mattress.  As  Doctor  Segur  had 
predicted,  old  age  came  on  prematurely,  at 
least  as  far  as  his  limbs  were  concerned, 
for  the  rest  of  the  body  was  perfectly  sound, 
and  the  mind,  ever  active,  preserved  the 
freshness  of  youth. 


FRANCIS  MACARY, 


*16 

This  sad  state  gradually  became  worse. 
Macary  saw  his  children  growing  up  around 
him,  and  was  indignant  at  himself  because 
he  was  not  the  first  and  last  at  work. 

“I  am  not  worth  a  quarter  of  an  ap¬ 
prentice!”  he  would  often  exclaim,  striking 
the  bench  an  awful  blow  with  the  hammer. 

Sometimes,  beside  himself  with  rage,  and 
grinding  his  teeth,  he  would  tear  off  his 
leather  gaiters,  bandages  and  dressings,  and 
throw  them  all  out  of  the  window;  as  if, 
in  ridding  himself  of  the  remedy,  he  could 
also  drive  away  the  disease.  Then,  in  a  few 
moments,  he  would  groan  and  cry  out.  The 
veins  and  tumors,  no  longer  compressed, 
would  begin  to  bleed  profusely,  and  pains, 
smarting  like  fire  burning  into  the  flesh, 
would  seize  upon  his  body.  Then  Macary, 
suffering  and  swearing  like  one  of  the 
damned,  would  call  again  for  his  cast -oft 
bandages  with  the  same  fury  with  which 
he  had  thrown  them  away.  “Here!  here!” 
he  would  cry;  “put  that  dog-skin  on  my 
dog’s  skin  again.” 

The  word  put  on  is  a  soft  expression  for 
the  real  verb  used.  The  dignity  of  historian 


( 


THE  CABINET-MAKER  OE  LAVAUR.  17 


does  not  permit  us  to  repeat  in  writing  the 
words  used,  and  which  no  dictionary  has 
dared  to  give. 

Sad  as  the  present  was,  the  future  held 
out  no  hope  of  cure.  The  cabinet-maker 
had  consulted  other  physicians,  especially 
the  famous  Doctor  Bernet.  All  declared  the 
case  incurable;  on  this  point  the  medical 
faculty  agreed.  It  remained  only  to  bear  his 
affliction  with  patience  and  resignation. 
But  Macary  knew  not  what  patience  was; 
and  resignation  was  a  flower  that  did  not 
grow  in  his  garden.  This  energetic  and 
impetuous  man,  condemned  to  inactivity; 
this  fiery  and  explosive  nature,  confined  and 
held  captive  within  four  walls,  vented  itself 
in  imprecations.  He  grumbled,  stormed  and 
raged  from  morning  until  night.  His  room 
resounded  with  thunder. 

This  storm  of  pain  and  rage  lasted  ten, 
twenty,  thirty  years.  Macary,  during  these 
thirty  years  of  suffering,  vowed  himself  to 
the  devil  from  morning  till  night.  He  never 
addressed  Heaven  except  by  his  oaths;  for 
him  blasphemy  took  the  form  of  prayer. 
Non  precabat ,  imprecabat.  The  name  of 


18 


Francis  macary, 


God  was  never  pronounced  by  him  except 
in  his  terrible  expressions  of  anger  and  rage. 

i 

III. 

In  that  same  house,  however,  the  sacred 
name  of  God  was  pronounced  in  low  tones 
of  reverence.  Macary’s  pious  wife  and  his 
daughter  Delphine  prayed  with  all  their 
heart.  And  He  who  hears  the  secret  as¬ 
pirations  of  the  Christian  soul  was  no  doubt 
more  attentive  to  those  humble,  noiseless 
supplications  than  to  the  frenzied  outbursts 
of  the  enraged  workman.  They  did  not  hope 
for  the  cure  of  an  incurable  evil,  and  did  not 
petition  for  the  impossible.  They  only  asked 
of  God  to  soften  the  bitterness  of  the  trial, 
and  to  give  peace  to  this  troubled  soul. 

That  nothing  may  be  omitted,  we  must 
say  that  if  Macary  waged  a  kind  of  open 
warfare  against  Heaven,  he  lived  in  peace 
with  his  fellowmen.  In  his  advanced  age, 
in  the  evening  of  life,  he  still  remained  the 
frank,  generous  and  obliging  man  that  he 
had  been  in  youth.  He  loved  his  wife  and 
children.  And,  assuredly,  if  he  had  died  at 


THE  CABINET-MAKER  OF  LAVAUR.  19 

that  moment,  the  epitaph  so  frequently  seen 
in  our  cemeteries,  though  so  often  deceitful, 
might  with  all  truth  be  engraved  upon  his 
tombstone:  “He  was  a  good  father  and  a 
good  husband.”  His  anger  expended  itself 
upon  things,  not  on  persons.  He  was  gentle 
and  affectionate  toward  the  companion  of 
his  life.  And  when,  amid  his  impatience  and 
oaths,  one  of  his  children  or  grandchildren 
(for  time  had  passed  on,  and  he  was  now  a 
grandfather)  came  near  him,  he  became 
suddenly  calm  and  began  to  smile.  He  was 
a  good,  charitable  and  cordial  neighbor. 
The  poor  never  knocked  in  vain  at  his  door. 

Macary  had  little;  but  that  little  he  dis¬ 
tributed  with  a  generous  heart.  His  com¬ 
passion  for  the  sufferings  of  others  often 
made  him  forget  his  own;  and  if  his  own 
pain  wrung  cries  from  him,  the  affliction 
of  his  neighbor  drew  tears  from  his  eyes. 
How  many  times,  giving  his  labor,  painful 
as  it  was,  as  an  alms,  did  he  not,  with  noble 
joy,  make  a  bed,  or  a  cupboard,  or  a  table 
for  some  poor  household  in  want  of  every¬ 
thing?  Like  the  poor  widow  spoken  of  in 
the  Gospel,  and  whom  Our  Lord  praised, 


20 


Francis  macary, 


he  gave  from  his  very  substance ;  as  though 
to  yield  to  charity  was  more  necessary  than 
the  necessaries  of  life. 

When  a  man  without  religion  has  these 
qualities, — to  speak  more  justly,  when  he 
possesses  these  virtues  toward  his  neighbor, 
— his  apparent  impiety  toward  God  is,  in 
reality,  but  a  mistake.  He  blasphemes 
because  he  is  in  ignorance,  because  he  does 
not  understand,  because  he  has  false  ideas. 
The  evil  which  he  then  commits,  however 
monstrous  it  may  be  formally  and  as  it 
appears  to  our  judgment,  proceeds  far  less 
from  perversity  of  will  than  from  an  error 
of  mind  and  a  partial  obscuration  of  reason, 
-—intellectual  miseries  upon  which  the  Lord 
has  pity,  and  which  He  takes  into  account 
in  the  exercise  of  His  pardoning  justice. 

Through  the  muddy  stream,  the  eye  of 
God  discerns  the  pure  diamond.  Thus  it 
happens  that  the  Father  of  all  mercy  is  often 
pleased  to  choose  His  friends  and  servants 
from  among  these  generous  wanderers. 
While  these  blasphemers  are  uttering  their 
imprecations,  and  the  furious  are  giving 
vent  to  their  fury,  there  comes  the  day  of 


THE  CABINET-MAKER  OF  LAVAUR.  21 


grace  marked  out  by  His  Providence.  He 
calls  them  to  Him  suddenly,  as  He  called 
St.  Paul;  and,  in  a  voice  that  brings  them 
to  their  knees,  He  says,  “Why  persecutest 
thou  Me?”  To  the  surprise  of  all,  He  gives 
the  preference  to  these  publicans  amongst  a 
thousand  others,  and  accepts  their  hospi¬ 
tality:  “Zaccheus,  make  haste  and  come 
down:  for  this  day  I  must  abide  in  thy 
house.”  More  than  that:  He  sometimes 
presents  them  as  examples  to  men  of  strict 
dogma  and  literal  practice.  And  if  He 
wishes  to  point  out  to  the  latter  a  type 
and  a  model  to  follow,  He  takes,  on  the 
road  from  Jerusalem  to  Jericho,  some  lost 
child,  who,  though  wrong  in  head,  is  right 
at  heart,  and  He  relates  to  His  disciples 
the  sublime  history  of  the  Good  Samaritan. 

Let  us  never  forget  that  it  is  not  without 
reason  that  Our  Lord  wishes  to  be  called 
“The  Good  God.”  Among  His  infinite  and 
numberless  perfections  goodness  is,  in  a  sense, 
supreme;  and,  before  all  else,  goodness  con¬ 
stitutes  the  true  character  of  His  children. 
“Be  merciful,”  He  says,  “as  your  Heavenly 
Father  is  merciful.”  “Blessed  are  the  mer- 


22 


FRANCIS  MACARY, 


ciful;  for  they  shall  obtain  mercy.”  And 
therefore  the  good,  though  they  may  appear 
to  be  out  of  the  fold,  belong  to  the  flock. 
In  a  blessed  moment  the  Heavenly  Pastor 
comes  in  search  of  the  stray  sheep  that  bear 
His  mark;  He  seeks  for  the  lost  coin  which 
bears  His  image  and  inscription :  Deus 
charitas  est. 

God  will  perform  a  miracle  rather  than 
that  such  souls  and  such  hearts  should  be 
lost.  With  a  word,  from  the  depths  of  the 
Invisible  penetrating  the  heart,  He  will  say 
to  another  Augustine:  “ Tolle ,  lege,  —  Take 
and  read”;  and  He  will  place  before  his 
eyes  the  apostolic  page  which  is  to  enlighten 
and  convert  him. 


IV. 

The  blasphemer  Macary  was  for  more 
than  thirty  years  in  the  condition  we  have 
described.  As  already  stated,  though  at 
certain  times  he  was  able  to  stand  and 
walk  a  little,  and  work  for  a  few  hours, 
there  were  other  and  longer  periods  when 
he  was  obliged  to  lie  stretched  at  full  length. 


THE  CABINET-MAKER  OF  LAYAUR.  23 


This  happened  especially  when  the  varicose 
■ulcers  suppurated  more  than  usual. 

These  interruptions  would  soon  have 
ruined  the  little  business  of  Macary,  had 
he  not  provided  for  the  contingency  by 
training  his  son  Charles  in  his  own  trade 
of  cabinet -making.  The  latter,  who  had 
become  as  skilful  as  his  father,  was  married, 
and  lived  in  a  neighboring  house,  but  came 
each  morning  to  the  old  workshop. 

About  the  middle  of  July,  1871,  the  in¬ 
tensity  of  the  malady  and  the  fearful  con¬ 
dition  of  the  ulcers  had  condemned  Macarv 
to  a  state  of  complete  inaction,  and  for  six 
weeks  he  lay  extended  on  his  invalid  -  chair. 
His  physical  and  mental  sufferings  were 
extreme.  His  body  was  racked  with  pain, 
and  his  soul  a  prey  to  the  greatest  weariness. 

As  a  means  of  distraction,  he  wished  to 
read,  and  called  for  a  book  which  he  was 
told  contained  some  extraordinary  tales. 
He  called  for  it  just  as  he  would  ask  for 
“The  Arabian  Nights,”  or  any  other  story¬ 
book.  But  Providence  was  to  make  his 
reading  serve  to  accomplish  His  own  designs. 

When  God,  only  yesterday, — fifteen  centu- 


24 


FRANCIS  MACARY, 


ries  have  passed  since,  but  for  Him  they  are 
as  one  day,  —  willed  to  conquer  the  son  of 
Monica,  He  placed  in  the  hands  of  that 
philosopher,  that  thinker,  that  prince  of 
intelligence  and  knowledge,  the  Divine  Book 
itself, — the  words  written  by  the  Apostle 
St.  Paul,  inspired  by  the  Holy  Ghost.  But 
for  the  cabinet-maker  Macary,  the  illiterate 
Samaritan,  the  poor  publican,  the  humble 
workman,  whose  hands  were  hardened  by 
the  saw  and  the  plane,  it  was  not  necessary 
to  employ  such  profundity  of  thought  and 
sublimity  of  expression.  There  was  no  need 
either  of  the  epistle  of  a  saint  or  the  inspired 
text. 

The  volume  which  Macary  called  for  was 
a  work  of  his  own  times,  a  history  of  ap¬ 
paritions  and  miracles,  and  had  been  written 
by  a  layman,  a  man  of  the  world, —himself 
a  publican! 

This  book,  entitled  “Our Lady  of  Lourdes,” 
was  received  by  the  invalid  late  one  evening. 
On  the  next  day  he  took  it  up  carelessly 
and  began  to  peruse  its  pages,  interrupting 
his  reading  from  time  to  time,  in  order  to 
give  orders  about  some  piece  of  work,  or  to 


THE  CABINET-MAKER  OF  LAYAUR.  25 


inquire  if  some  entries  had  been  made, —in  a 
word,  informing  himself  about  the  details 
of  the  business  of  the  shop.  But,  little  by 
little,  his  attention  was  arrested,  and  his 
tongue  became  silent.  He  appeared,  so  to 
speak,  to  see  and  hear  nothing  of  what  was 
going  on  around  him.  Just  as  a  traveller  on 
leaving  a  dusty  road,  where  he  has  been 
exposed  to  the  burning  rays  of  a  summer 
sun,  and  entering  a  thick  forest,  finds  himself 
yielding  to  the  influence  of  the  refreshing 
shade  and  profound  silence;  and,  walking 
under  the  arching  branches  of  ancient  trees 
and  in  solitary  parks,  sees  himself  separated 
from  the  rest  of  mankind,  and,  as  it  were, 
lost  in  the  grand  and  majestic  bosom  of 
Nature, —  so  too,  did  Macary,  as  he  pro¬ 
gressed  in  his  reading,  feel  himself  influenced 
by  some  unknown  emotion  which  penetrated 
his  soul  and  entirely  absorbed  him.  He  be¬ 
held  himself  freed  from  all  thought  of  things 
of  earth,  and,  as  it  were,  mysteriously  sur¬ 
rounded  by  a  spiritual  atmosphere  and  the 
presence  of  God  the  Lord. 

Tears  poured  down  the  rough  face  of  the 
workman, 


26 


FRANCIS  MACARY, 

“What!  You  are  crying!”  exclaimed  his 
wife,  in  astonishment.  “What  is  there  so 
affecting  in  that  book?” 

“My  dear  Virginie,  I  can  not  explain  it. 
Leave  me!  leave  me!” 

“Read  a  few  pages,  at  least,  that  I  may 
know  what  it  is  about.” 

“No,  no!  It  is  impossible.  Tears  choke 
me.  After  a  while  we  will  read  it  together. 
But  for  the  present  I  must  read  it  alone.” 

To  Francis  Macary  it  seemed  as  though  he 
had  awakened  from  a  long  dream  and  the 
darkness  of  night  were  suddenly  dissipated. 
A  new,  unexpected  light  broke  upon  his 
dazzled  vision.  His  country — the  true  coun¬ 
try  of  souls — from  which  he  had  so  long 
wandered,  lay  extended  before  him,  with  its 
fountains  of  living  water,  its  refreshing  peace 
and  its  heavenly  horizon.  The  aged  Macary 
was  born  again  to  the  faith  of  his  childhood. 

What  had  acted  so  powerfully  upon  him? 
Was  it  the  book  itself?  Certainly  not.  No 
more  than  in  Baptism  the  common  water 
of  earthly  fountains  —  no  more  than  the 
trumpets  of  the  Jews,  when  at  their  sound 
the  walls  of  Jericho  crumbled.  It  was  solely 


THE  CABINET-MAKER  OF  LAVA  UR.  27 


the  blessing  of  God,  who  made  use  of  a 
means  in  itself  of  no  value.  To  Him  who 
created  the  world  out  of  nothing,  all  things 
are  instruments  for  good. 

As  Macary  read  the  chapters  in  which 
the  author  recounts  the  wonderful  effects  ol 
the  supernatural  Spring,  which  the  Blessed 
Virgin  caused  to  burst  forth  at  the  Grotto 
of  Lourdes,  he  experienced  a  violent  trem¬ 
bling. 

“And  I,  too/’  he  said  to  himself:  “If  I 
could  procure  some  of  that  water,  I  should 
be  cured.” 

Faith  was  not  alone  in  entering  his  soul; 
it  was  accompanied  by  hope. 

The  book  had  been  opened  at  early  dawn ; 
it  was  finished  with  the  last  rays  of  the 
setting  sun. 

V. 

That  day,  which  was  to  be  an  epoch  m 
Francis  Macary ’s  life,  was  Sunday,  July 
16,  1871,  Feast  of  Our  Lady  of  Mount 
Carmel,  and  the  thirteenth  anniversary  ol 
the  final  apparition  of  the  Blessed  Virgin  to 
Bernadette  Soubirous, 


28 


FRANCIS  MAC  ARY, 

“From  that  moment/’  he  afterward  wrote 
to  a  friend,  “the  hand  of  God  was  upon  me 
and  began  to  guide  me.  And  it  was  indeed 
necessary.  For  at  that  moment,  though 
nailed  to  my  chair  by  my  varicose  limbs, 
and  unable  to  stand  without  experiencing 
the  most  terrible  sufferings,  I  took  it  into  my 
head  to  go  out  and  take  the  few  steps  which 
were  to  lead  me  on  that  blessed  road.” 

It  was  then  about  eight  o’clock  in  the 
evening:  the  heat  was  very  oppressive. 

“I  can  not  stay  any  longer  on  this  chair,” 
said  Macary.  “I  must  take  the  fresh  air; 
let  us  go  out  for  a  while.” 

“Where  do  you  want  to  go,  my  poor 
husband?”  asked  his  wife..  “You  are  not 
able  to  walk.” 

“So  much  the  worse  for  my  legs.  It’s  all 
the  same  to  me.  These  limbs  can  complain 
if  they  want  to.  I  have  nursed  them  long 
enough;  they  should  support  me,  too,  for  a 
while.” 

“  Come,  come !  Be  reasonable !  ” 

“I  want  to  leave  this  room  and  breathe 
a  while  outside.  Give  me  your  arm.” 

He  was  already  on  his  feet,  and,  willing  or 


THE  CABINET-MAKER  OF  LAYATJR. 


29 


unwilling,  it  was  necessary  to  humor  his 
passing  fancies. 

Leaning  with  one  hand  upon  his  wife 

. 

Virginie,  the  faithful  support  of  his  old  age 
and  sickness,  and  with  the  other  upon  a 
heavy,  gnarled  cane,  he  dragged  himself 
along  the  street  which  led  to  St.  Alain’s, 
the  Cathedral  of  Lavaur.  He  suffered  ex¬ 
cruciating  pain ;  it  was  only  his  indomitable 
will  that  kept  him  erect  and  enabled  him  to 
walk  under  such  suffering. 

In  this  way,  he  reached  the  house  of  his 
sister,  Madame  Bonafous,  who  saw  him 
from  the  window,  and  called  out  to  him: 
“  Where  in  the  world  are  you  going, 
Francis?  ” 

“I  would  go  and  throw  myself  under  the 
bridge,  for  half  a  sou.  My  limbs  are  pierced 
with  red-hot  irons.” 

“Come  in  for  a  while  and  take  a  little 
rest.” 

“Rest?  My  poor  Marie,  I  do  not  know 
what  it  is !  ” 

His  sister’s  room  was  on  the  ground -floor. 
He  opened  a  door  and  fell  into  a  seat,  com¬ 
pletely  exhausted.  They  talked  together  for 


30 


FRANCIS  MACARY, 


a  while ;  I  do  not  know  on  what  subject,  and 
it  matters  little.  Night  came  on,  and  they 
could  no  longer  distinguish  each  other’s  face. 

A  priest  was  passing  along  the  street.  It 
was  M.  l’Abbe  Coux,  the  curate  of  the 
Cathedral.  When  in  front  of  the  open 
window,  he  recognized  the  clear,  short  tones 
of  the  cabinet-maker’s  voice. 

“Macary!  Is  that  you?”  he  cried  from 
the  street.  “Why,  you  are  getting  better!” 

“On  the  contrary,  I  am  getting  worse, 
Monsieur  l’Abbe.  I  would  like  to  sell  you 
the  skin  of  my  legs.  But  I  tell  you  before¬ 
hand  that  it  is  not  worth  much.  It  is  full 
of  varicose  veins,  ulcers,  lumps  and  knots. 
Before,  behind,  right,  left ;  on  the  ankles,  on 
the  calves, — from  the  foot  to  the  knee,  it  is 
as  full  of  holes  as  an  old  stocking.” 

The  Abbe  Coux  entered  the  house.  He 
exhorted  Macary  to  patience  and  resigna¬ 
tion  ;  and,  after  exchanging  a  few  words,  he 
arose  to  take  his  leave.  “I  must  go,”  he 
said,  “and  finish  some  preparations  for  my 
journey.  To-morrow  I  leave  for  Our  Lady 
of  Lourdes,  and  I  will  gladly  undertake  any 
commissions  you  may  have.” 


THE  CABINET-MAKER  OF  LAVAUR.  31 


At  the  words  “Our  Lady  of  Lourdes” 
Macary  raised  his  head  quickly. 

“Certainly  I  have  a  commission.  If  your 
Blessed  Virgin  has  compassion  on  the  un¬ 
fortunate,  she  may  well  take  pity  on  me. 
Tell  her  that  there  is  a  poor  devil  here  at 
Lavaur  whose  limbs  are  full  of  holes,  and 
that  she  should  not  leave  a  man  in  that 
condition  when  she  can  take  him  out  of  it. 
Tell  her  that  I  am  at  the  height  of  suffering, 
and  can  stand  it  no  longer.  Let  her  cure  me 
or  kill  me.” 

“You  may  be  assured,”  replied  the  Abbe, 
smiling,  “that  I  shall  not  ask  her  to  kill 
you.  Indeed,  she  would  not  listen  to  such 
a  petition.” 

The  thought  of  the  book  which  he  had 
read,  and  the  miraculous  cures  it  narrated 
came  before  the  mind  of  Macary,  and  he  felt 
a  vague  yet  strong  hope  rising  within  him. 
“Monsieur  T Abbe,”  he  said,  gravely,  “do  me 
this  service.  Bring  me  some  of  the  blessed 
water,  and  pray  for  me.” 

“I  promise  you  to  do  so.” 


32 


Francis  macary, 


VI. 

On  the  following  Wednesday,  the  19th  of 
July,  about  nine  o’clock  in  the  evening, 
Francis  Macary  was  visited  by  his  sister, 
Madame  Bonafous,  at  whose  house  he  had 
met  the  Abbe  Coux.  She  brought  with  her 
a  little  vial,  holding  about  the  third  of  a 
pint  of  the  water  of  Lourdes. 

“That  is  for  me!”  exclaimed  Macary, 
radiant  with  hope.  “Now  I  shall  soon  be 
cured.  Au  revoir,  my  dear  sister.” 

Crippled  in  both  limbs,  dragging  his  feet 
painfully,  supporting  himself  by  the  wall,  the 
furniture,  or  leaning  upon  his  wife’s  arm,  the 
workman  left  his  chair  and  betook  himself  to 
his  room.  He  placed  on  the  bureau  the  vial 
of  the  water  of  Lourdes,  and  fell  on  his 
knees  before  a  crucifix,  which  on  the  day  of 
their  marriage  his  pious  wife  had  hung  upon 
the  wall. 

“I  then  said  a  short  prayer  to  the  good 
Virgin,”  he  told  us.  “It  was  the  only  prayer, 
I  believe,  I  ever  knew,  and  I  said  it  with  my 
whole  soul.” 

It  was  the  “Hail  Mary,”  the  remembrance 


"THE  CABINET-MAKER  OF  LAYAUR. 


33 


of  which  had  alone  escaped  the  religious 
shipwrecks  of  his  memory. 

Then  he  proceeded  to  remove  his  dress¬ 
ings — the  bandages  and  the  dog-skin  gaiters, 
— and  pouring  the  blessed  water  in  the 
hollow  of  his  right  hand  he  gently  bathed 
his  limbs,  the  varicose  veins,  the  enormous 
excrescences,  and  the  supper  a  ting  wounds. 
He  prayed  with  his  whole  heart;  not,  as 
before,  by  the  aid  of  a  studied  formula,  but 
with  that  interior  and  profound  elevation  of 
the  soul,  at  the  same  time  mute  and  elo¬ 
quent,  which  is  the  highest  form  of  prayer, — 
the  prayer  in  spirit  and  in  truth  of  which  the 
Lord  Jesus  has  spoken  and  which  penetrates 
at  once  to  the  throne  of  an  all-powerful 
atid  all -merciful  God. 

There  still  remained  a  few  drops  of  the 
water.  “Swallow  that,  my  boy!”  said 
Macary  to  himself.  And  putting  the  vial 
to  his  lips  he  drained  it  at  one  draught. 

On  his  bed  lay  the  linen  bandages  and  dog¬ 
skin  gaiters,  which  had  encircled  his  diseased 
limbs.  It  was  Macary’s  custom,  when  in 
bed,  to  roll  up  carefully  these  bandages,  each 
of  them  five  or  six  yards  long,  so  as  to  put 


34  FRANCIS  MACARY, 

them  on  easily  in  the  morning.  On  this 
evening  he  acted  differently.  His  blunt  faith 
assumed  blunt  expressions.  Gathering  up 
everything,  he  made  a  bundle,  which  he 
threw  violently  into  a  corner,  saying : 

“Good-night  to  you,  bandages  and  gait- 
ters!  I  bid  you  good-bye,  dog-skin  and 
corset-laces!  Since  the  Blessed  Virgin  has 
cured  so  many  others,  she  will  certainly  cure 
me  too.  You  will  never  again  be  around  my 
limbs  as  long  as  I  live.” 

Good  Christian  though  she  was,  the  wife 
of  Macary  did  not  share  his  unshaken  con¬ 
fidence.  When  she  saw  this  mingling  of 
prayer  and  liveliness,  she  could  not  forbear 
smiling  sadly;  and,  shaking  her  head,  she 
said  to  herself:  “Alas!  alas!  my  poor,  dear 
husband !  You  will  need  your  bandages  and 
dog-skin  again  to-morrow.  And  then  we 
shall  hear  the  curses  resound.” 

Faith  in  the  power  of  God,  and  in  the 
reality  of  miracles  in  general,  does  not  neces¬ 
sarily  imply  faith  in  any  particular  miracle 
which  the  hope  of  another  may  proclaim  as 
indubitable.  Nature  is  slow  to  believe  that 
which  surpasses  its  powers,  and  to  it  the 


t 


/ 


THE  CABINET-MAKER  OF  LAVAUR.  35 


miraculous  seems  impossible.  Thus,  in  bib¬ 
lical  times,  the  aged  Sara,  wife  of  Abraham, 
laughed  when  the  angel  announced  her  ap¬ 
proaching  maternity :  so  too,  on  Wednesday, 
July  19,  1871,  the  wife  of  the  cabinet¬ 
maker  of  Lavaur  smiled  when  she  heard  her 
husband  announce  with  bold  assurance  his 
own  immediate  and  certain  cure. 

Hitherto  Macary  had  always  been  slow 
to  find  rest  at  night.  The  blood,  coursing 
rapidly  through  the  veins  of  the  limbs  when 
relieved  from  the  pressure  of  the  bandage, 
would  cause,  through  the  whole  system,  a 
kind  of  fever  and  sleeplessness.  But  on  this 
evening,  the  cabinet  -  maker  had  hardly 
stretched  himself  in  bed  when  he  fell  into 
a  deep  sleep.  His  wife,  somewhat  surprised, 
retired  on  tip -toe  to  her  own  room. 

An  open  door  communicated  between  the 
two  rooms.  All  the  lights  were  extinguished, 
and  silence  reigned  throughout  the  house. 

VII. 

At  midnight  Macary  suddenly  awoke. 
Contrary  to  his  usual  experience,  he  felt 


36  FRANCIS  MACARY, 

no  pain  in  his  limbs.  He  passed  his  hands 
over  them;  there  were  no  lumps! 

“  Wife !”he  cried,  “I  am  cured !  ” 

“You  are  dreaming,  my  poor  Francis, ” 
replied  his  wife  from  the  adjoining  room. 
“You  are  dreaming.  Go  to  sleep.” 

“I  am  not  dreaming,”  said  Macary.  “I 
have  felt  my  limbs.” 

But  sleep,  which  had  been  interrupted  for 
a  moment,  again  weighed  upon  him ;  and,  in 
spite  of  his  happy  surprise,  his  head  fell  back 
upon  the  pillow,  and  once  more  he  fell  into 
a  deep  slumber. 

At  five  o’clock  he  opened  his  eyes.  The 
rays  of  the  morning  sun  lit  up  the  room. 
Macary  could  not  only  touch  his  limbs,  but 
also  see  them.  All  signs  of  the  malady  had 
disappeared ;  no  lumps,  no  varicose  veins,  no 
ulcers !  The  veins  had  resumed  their  normal 
proportions !  To  the  sight  as  well  as  to  the 
touch  the  skin  was  whole  and  smooth ! 

Ah!  if  up'  to  this  time  the  feelings  of 
Macary  had  always  found  expression  in 
terrible  oaths,  it  may  be  said  now  that 
the  cry  which  he  uttered  denoted  a  complete 
transformation  in  his  nature.  The  poor 


THE  CABINET-MAKER  OF  LAVAUR.  37 


man  joined  his  hands,  and  raising  them  to 
Heaven  he  exclaimed:  “0  my  God!  0  most 
holy  Virgin  of  Lourdes !”  And  at  the  same 
time  that  he  turned  his  heart  to  Heaven,  he 
thought  also  of  the  aged  companion  of  his 
life,  and  in  indescribable  tones  of  emotion 
he  cried :  ‘  ‘  Virginie !  Virginie !  ’  ’ 

She  thought  he  called  for  help,  and,  fright¬ 
ened,  she  hastened  to  his  assistance.  With 
a  gesture,  her  husband,  his  face  bathed  in 
tears,  pointed  to  his  healed  limbs. 

“Well,”  he  said,  “you  would  not  believe 
me  last  night.  Look,  now !  ” 

She  was  seized  with  trembling  at  the 
wonderful  sight ;  she  knelt  by  the  side  of  the 
bed,  and,  burying  her  head  in- her  hands, 
broke  into  deep  sobs. 

Macary  arose  and  stood  erect.  He  walked 
without  gaiters  and  bandages,  and  felt  no 
pain  or  fatigue.  He  knelt  and  prayed  for 
a  while ;  then  he  ran  to  his  workshop.  He 
took  up  and  carried  without  effort  a  heavy 
plank,  and  placing  it  across  his  bench  began 
to  plane.  The  blood  circulated  more  vigor¬ 
ously  through  his  veins.  It  seemed  as  though 
he  had  renewed  his  youth. 


38 


FRANCIS  MACARY, 


His  son  Charles  now  came  as  usual  to  his 
daily  work;  when  he  entered  the  shop  he 
uttered  a  cry  of  surprise. 

“What,  father!  Are  you  on  your  feet  and 
at  work  ?  What  has  happened  ?  ” 

“What  has  happened,  my  son,  is  that  the 
water  of  Lourdes  has  produced  its  effect. 
Come  here.” 

And  rolling  up  to  his  knees  his  wide  linen 
pantaloons,  he  showed  his  limbs.  Like  his 
mother  a  few  moments  before,  the  son  could 
find  no  words.  He  clasped  his  father  in  his 
arms  and  wept  in  silence. 

VIII. 

During  the  morning,  Macary,  looking 
through  the  window,  saw  the  figure  of  a 
priest  advancing  rapidly  in  the  direction  of 
the  Cathedral.  It  was  the  Abbe  Coux.  The 
happy  cabinet-maker  hurried  out;  but  the 
priest  had  already  passed  the  house,  and 
was  some  fifteen  or  twenty  paces  ahead. 

“Good  morning,  Monsieur  l’Abbe !”  Macary 
shouted  after  him.  “  The  Blessed  Virgin  has 
heard  you,  and  me  too.  I  am  cured.  Come 
and  see.” 


THE  CABINET-MAKER  OF  LAVAUR.  39 


“Very  well!  very  well!”  replied  the  Abbe 
Coux,  who  either  did  not  understand  the 
workman,  or,  perhaps,  feared  some  of  his 
wicked  jokes.  He  did  not  for  a  moment 
think  that  the  cure  of  an  incurable  malady, 
which  had  endured  for  more  than  thirty 
years,  could  be  effected  so  suddenly  in  one 
evening.  “Very  well!”  he  said;  “I  am  in  a 
hurry.”  And  he  continued  on  his  way. 

Later  in  the  day  the  priest  passed  again 
before  the  workshop,  and  Macary  ran  out 
to  meet  him. 

“  Monsieur  1’ Abbe,  I  called  out  to  you  this 
morning  that  I  was  cured.  But  I  understood 
well  that  you  did  not  believe  me.  It  is  true, 
nevertheless ;  and  you  can  prove  it  with  your 
own  eyes.  The  Blessed  Virgin  has  cured 
me.” 

i 

Macary’s  tone  of  voice  excluded  all  idea  of 
raillery  or  falsehood.  The  priest  experienced 
a  feeling  of  terror: — the  supernatural  had 
passed  by  his  side  and  he  had  failed  to 
recognize  it. 

“Is  it  possible!”  he  exclaimed,  growing 
pale. 

Thev  entered  the  nearest  house,  which 
* 


40 


FRANCIS  MACARY, 


happened  to  be  that  of  Macary’s  sister, 
where  three  days  before  the  old  workman 
had  charged  the  Abbe  Coux  to  pray  for  him 
at  the  rocks  of  Massabielle,  and  to  bring 
him  some  water  of  Lourdes. 

On  hearing  the  words  of  Macary  and  the 
priest,  a  crowd  formed  in  the  street.  Several 
entered  with  them  into  the  house  of  Madame 
Bonafous.  Macary  showed  his  cured  limbs 
to  all.  The  varicose  veins  were  now  in  their 
normal  condition,  the  lumps  had  disappeared, 
and  the  wounds  were  all  healed. 

“And  now,  Monsieur  l’Abbe,”  said  the 
workman,  “now  that  the  Blessed  Virgin 
has  cured  my  body,  the  soul  must  also  be 
cured,  and  you  will  be  my  physician.” 

The  Divine  Hand  which  had  removed  the 
physical  evil  had  also  touched  the  heart,  and 
Francis  Macary  was  a  new  man.  The  un- 
believer,  the  blasphemer,  the  man  of  terrible 
oaths,  on  the  following  Sunday  arose  from 
the  midst  of  the  faithful  and  with  his  family 
approached  the  Holy  Table  to  receive  that 
God  whom  he  had  so  long  blasphemed.  His 
eyes  were  filled  with  tears,  and  joy  was 
manifested  on  the  faces  of  all  present, 


THE  CABINET-MAKER  OF  LAVAUR.  41 


If  there  is  more  joy  in  heaven  over  one 
sinner  that  is  converted  than  a  hundred 
just  who  need  not  penance,  this  joy  of  our 
heavenly  Father  is  also  felt  in  the  hearts 
of  His  children  upon  earth.  It  was  a  happy 
day  for  the  people  of  the  Cathedral  of 
St.  Alain. 

IX. 

The  report  of  this  great  event  soon  spread 
through  the  city  of  Lavaur  and  the  sur¬ 
rounding  country,  and  everywhere  produced 
a  great  sensation. 

Macary  went  to  visit  his  three  physicians. 
Nothing  could  equal  their  surprise  on  seeing 
him  cured.  The  malady,  they  considered, 
was  certainly  incurable;  it  dated  back  some 
thirty  years ;  no  medical  treatise  had  related 
a  ease  like  it:  —  and  yet  Macary  was  there 
before  their  eyes  with  neither  ulcers  nor 
varicose  veins.  A  power  unknown  to  science, 
and  superior  to  nature,,  had  removed  all^ 
Those  numerous  and  enormous  varicose 
bundles,  those  monstrous  knots  which  had 
so  deformed  his  two  limbs,  had  all  disap- 

V 

peared,  and  nothing  remained  except  one 


42 


FRANCIS  MACARY, 


very  small  knot  on  the  right  limb.  And 
this  slight  trace  of  his  former  condition  re¬ 
mained  to  bear  witness  to  a  malady  that 
had  passed  away,  just  as  the  dry  bed  of  a 
torrent  testifies  to  all  eyes  the  former  passage 
of  the  w^aters. 

“Decidedly,”  cried  Doctor  Segur,  after  a 
most  careful  examination,  “I  can  perceive 
but  a  slight  trace  of  those  enormous  varicose 
veins.” 

“Yes,  indeed,”  replied  Doctor  Rossignol, 
in  his  turn:  “the  accidents  have  suddenly 
disappeared ,  and  of  the  enormous  knots 
there  remains  but  this  very  little  one.” 

“And  there  exists  not  the  slightest  appear¬ 
ance  of  engorgement ,”  said  Doctor  Bernet,  in 
astonishment.  “What  is  particularly  strik- 

l 

ing  is  that  the  bundles  of  varicose  veins  have 
entirely  disappeared ,  and  in  their  place  the 
touch  reveals  little  hard  cords,  empty  of 
blood  and  rolling  under  the  fingers.  .  .  .  Now, 
we  know  that  Macary  was  attacked  by  a 
chronic  malady.  All  doctors  agree  on  this 
pointy  that  varicoses  if  left  to  themselves 
are  incurable ;  that  they  are  rarely  cured 
by  palliative  means ,  and  still  less  do  they 


i 


THE  CABINET-MAKER  OF  LAVAUR.  43 


disappear  spontaneously.  .  .  .  And  yet  here  is 
a  radical  cure  effected  in  the  space  of  one 
night,  and  solely  by  the  application  of  the 
water  of  Lourdes!” 

“This  case  of  spontaneous  cure  appears 
still  more  surprising  to  me,”  declared  Doctor 
Segur,  “from  the  fact  that  the  annals  of 
science  record  no  case  of  like  nature .” 

“It  must  be  confessed,”  said  Doctor  Bernet, 
finally,  “  that  no  author  mentions  a  case 
similar  or  analogous  to  this ,  and  science 
is  incapable  of  explaining  such  a  cure.  And 
even  though  some  details  of  the  fact  affirmed 
by  Macary  were  not  proved  by  authentic 
testimonies  apart  from  his  own,  it  would 
still  be  a  most  extraordinary  —  nay,  a  super¬ 
natural  fact.” 

Such  was  the  textual  verdict  pronounced 
by  these  three  eminent  physicians,  one  after 
another,  in  the  name  of  human  science.  We 
have  copied  these  positive  and  formal  ex¬ 
pressions  word  for  word  from  their  written 
declarations.  At  the  end  of  the  volume 
( Appendix )  we  reproduce  in  extenso  the 
certificates  of  these  three  distinguished  mem¬ 
bers  of  the  medical  Faculty,  with  their 


44 


FRANCIS  MACARY, 


signatures  entered  before  the  Mayor  and 
the  Sub -Prefect. 

If  the  adversaries  of  the  supernatural 
demand  authentic  proofs  and  certificates 
from  men  of  science,  they  have  them  at 
hand. 

X. 

Two  months  afterward,  on  the  18th  of 
September,  Macary  carried  to  the  Grotto 
of  Lourdes  as  an  ex-voto  his  bandage  ap¬ 
paratus,  mute  witnesses  of  a  former  malady 
divinely  cured.  They  may  still  be  seen  there 
to  remind  the  visitor  of  one  of  God’s  miracles. 

At  Lourdes,  under  the  shadow  of  those 
Rocks  of  Massabielle  sanctified  by  the 
presence  of  her  who  had  so  miraculously 
succored  and  saved  him,  the  emotion  of 
Macary  was  very  great.  He  thus  expressed 
himself  in  a  letter  which  is  before  us  as 
we  write: 

“I  fell  on  my  knees,  and  for  ten  minutes  at 
least  my  heart  was  so  moved  that,  though  I 
wished  to  pray,  I  could  not  utter  a  word. 
Finally,  a  torrent  of  tears  came  to  my  relief, 
and  I  found  words  to  address  an  act  of 


THE  CABINET-MAKER  OF  LAVAUR.  45 


thanksgiving  to  that  tender  Mother  whom 
I  seemed  to  see  before  me.  Sir,  I  shall  never 
forget  that  moment.  .  .  .  Ah!  if  our  free¬ 
thinkers  could  but  taste  a  little  of  the 
happiness  which  one  experiences  at  such 
moments,  they  would  very  soon  recognize 
the  difference  between  our  faith  and  their 
doctrines.” 

From  such  words  we  may  divine  that  the 
moral  change  in  the  man  was  not  less 
wonderful  than  the  physical.  From  that 
day  his  life  passed  between  work,  since  he 
had  recovered  his  strength,  and  prayer,  since 
he  had  again  found  faith.  Just  as  Saul  the 
persecutor  was  converted  on  the  way  to 
Damascus,  so  the  blasphemer  Macary  had 
been  changed  by  the  grace  of  God.  No  doubt 
his  joy  at  being  freed  from  his  infirmity  was 
very  great;  but  we,  after  having  seen  and 
heard  him,  can  testify  that  it  was  nothing 
compared  to  his  happiness  at  again  becoming 
a  Christian. 

The  Gospel  speaks  of  the  joy  of  the  Good 
Shepherd  on  finding  the  lost  sheep;  but  it 
tells  us  nothing  of  the  intoxicating  delight 
of  the  sheep  itself  so  sweetly  brought  back 


46  FRANCIS  MACARY, 

to  the  fold;  nor  of  the  prodigal  child  em¬ 
braced  by  his  father ;  nor  of  the  sinner  recon¬ 
ciled  with  his  God.  This  delight,  this  filial 
joy,  this  interior  and  inexpressible  happiness, 
Francis  Macary  tasted  in  all  its  plenitude. 
His  soul  was  henceforth  that  of  an  apostle. 
He  would  have  wished  to  convert  the  whole 
world,  and  to  bring  all  the  members  of  the 
great  human  family  to  the  knowledge  and 
love  of  the  Sovereign  Truth. 

XI. 

After  his  cure,  Macary  never  ceased  return¬ 
ing  thanks  to  God  and  giving  testimony 
before  men  of  the  heavenly  favor  of  which 
he  had  been  the  object.  Every  evening,  after 
the  work  of  the  day,  he  would  visit  the 
church,  there  to  pass  an  hour  before  the 

Blessed  Sacrament.  He  related  his  historv 

•/ 

to  everyone  that  came  to  see  him.  To  all 
who  wrote  to  him  he  responded  scrupulously, 
giving  a  clear,  exact  and  vivid  narration  of 
this  great  event  of  his  life. 

If  he  chanced  to  read  in  any  of  the  news¬ 
papers  an  attack  upon  miracles,  this  brave 


4 


THE  CABINET-MAKER  OF  LAVAUR.  47 


workman  would  leave  his  plane  and  take 
up  the  pen  to  write  to  the  editor  a  circum¬ 
stantial  relation  of  what  had  happened  to 
himself.  Several  of  the  letters  thus  written 
have  been  sent  to  us,  and  we  have  drawn 
largely  from  them,  trying  to  infuse  into  our 
own  story  the  spirit  of  his  frank  and  manly 
words.  One  of  them  concludes  thus : 

“.  .  .  .  From  that  moment  I  have  worn 
stockings  like  other  people.  I  have  not  seen 
the  slightest  inflammation,  not  felt  the  least 
pain;  and  yet  I  work  every  day  from  five 
o’clock  in  the  morning  to  seven  at  night. 

“This  is  an  exact  account  of  the  wonder 
which  Our  Lady  of  Lourdes  has  deigned  to 
work  in  me,  and  I  give  it  to  you  under  oath, 
praying  you  to  publish  it,  to  make  it  known 
everywhere  as  you  may  think  fit.  Happy 
shall  I  be  if  I  learn  from  you  that  my  letter 
has  been  the  means  of  leading  back  one 
infidel  into  the  true  path.  As  for  me,  who 
never  prayed  before,  I  assure  you  that  I  am 
striving  to  redeem  the  time  lost ;  and  I  shall 
never  cease  thanking  the  good  God  and  the 
Blessed  Virgin  for  having  chosen  me  as  an 
instrument  for  the  manifestation  of  their 


48 


FRANCIS  MACARY, 


glory  and  goodness.  Adieu.  Be  so  good 
as  to  remember  me  in  your  prayers,  and 
believe  me 

“Your  brother  in  Jesus  Christ, 

“Francis  Macary.” 


XII. 

The  following  year,  on  the  24th  of  June,  a 
procession  of  about  a  thousand  Christians, — 
men  and  women,  priests  and  laics,  —  singing 
canticles,  followed  the  road  which  led  to  the 
Grotto  of  Lourdes.  These  pilgrims  remem¬ 
bered  that  the  Blessed  Virgin  Mary,  on  being 
invoked,  had  twice  delivered  their  city:  the 
first  time  from  a  plague  during  the  fourteenth 
century,  and  the  second  time  from  the  in¬ 
vasion  of  enemies  two  centuries  later ;  and  a 
magnificent  armorial  banner  at  the  head  of 
the  procession  recalled  by  two  dates  this 
radition  of  their  ancestors.  But  between 
the  two  dates  of  the  past  was  one  entirely 
modern : 

July  19,  1871. 

It  was  the  date  of  the  supernatural  cure 


THE  CABINET-MAKER  OF  LAVAUR.  49 


which  we  have  related.  On  the  other  side 
of  the  banner  was  inscribed : 

TO  MARY  IMMACULATE. 

THE  GRATEFUL  CITY  OF  LAVAUR. 

The  man  who  carried  this  emblem  of  the 
gratitude  of  a  whole  people  was  Francis 
Macary.  Every  year  afterward  he  made  a 
pilgrimage  of  thanksgiving  to  Lourdes. 

XIII. 

In  the  beginning  of  October,  1875,  Macary 
paid  his  customary  annual  visit  to  the 
sanctuary  of  his  benefactress.  We  happened 
to  be  in  Lourdes  at  the  same  time,  and  he 
came  to  visit  us.  We  shall  never  forget  his 
frank,  open  countenance. 

“Ah!  Monsieur,”  he  said  to  us,  “I  have 
long  desired  to  know  you.  It  is  through 
your  book  that  I  was  led  to  obtain  my  two 
cures.” 

What  he  called  his  second  cure  was  that 
of  his  soul. 

With  these  words  the  good  man  opened 
his  arms  and  gave  us  the  embrace  customary 


50 


FRANCIS  MACARY, 


among  the  faithful  in  the  early  ages  of  the 
Church. 

While  conversing  with  him,  and  carefully 
examining  his  limbs,  at  one  time  diseased, 
we  remarked  the  peculiar  character  of  his 
physical  condition.  Since  his  miraculous 
cure,  which  had  taken  place  four  years 
previously,  Macary  had  been  free  not  only 
from  relapse,  but. from  any  other  indispo¬ 
sition.  It  seemed  as  if  the  Divine  Hand  was  , 
henceforth  to  preserve  this  man,  who  had 
suffered  so  long,  from  the  slightest  change 
in  perfect  health.  Spare,  active,  erect  and 
strong,  his  appearance  gave  the  idea  that 
he  was  invulnerable.  Though  subject  to  the 
law  of  death,  he  appeared  removed  from  the 
accidents  of  sickness.  He  was  like  a  soldier 
clothed  in  a  coat  of  mail,  upon  whose  breast 
every  dart  falls  harmless,  without  leaving 
any  impression.  A  violent  shock  may  over¬ 
throw  him,  but  no  thrust  can  pierce  him. 

We  invited  Francis  Macary  to  sit  at  our 
table  and  partake  of  our  repast;  and  it  was 
during  the  meal  that  he  related  to  us  his 
history,  with  wonderful  animation  and  en¬ 
thusiasm,  and  an  emotion  which  communi- 


THE  CABINET-MAKER  OE  LAVAUR.  0± 

cated  itself  to  as.  The  Cure  Peyramale ;  the 
Abbe  Pomian,  cetechist  of  Bernadette;  the 
Abbe  Peyret,  curate  of  Lourdes,  and  now 
cure  of  Aubaride;  M.  and  Madame  Ernest 
Hello,  were  with  us,  and  all  were  charmed 
by  this  Christian,  picturesque  and  graphic 
recital* 

In  a  corner  of  the  dining-room  my  secretary 
was  seated  at  a  writing-desk. 

“What  is  that  young  man  doing  there ?” 
asked  Macary,  toward  the  end  of  dinner. 

“He  is  a  stenographer.  He  writes  as  fast 
as  a  person  speaks.  He  has  taken  down  on 
paper  every  word  that  you  have  said.” 

“Oh  —  well!  I  have  nothing  to  take  back. 
From  beginning  to  end,  you  have  heard 
nothing  but  the  truth.” 

He  accepted  our  hospitality  and  passed  a 
few  days  with  us.  When  he  was  leaving,  I 
went  with  him  to  the  station  and  promised 
to  visit  him  at  Lavaur  during  the  following 
month,  on  my  way  to  Paris.  I  desired  to 
interrogate  still  further — to  penetrate  more 
deeply  into  the  heart  of  this  history,  and 
the  history  of  this  heart. 

Alas!  man  proposes  and  God  disposes! 


52 


FRANCIS  MACARY, 


XIV. 

Two  weeks  afterward  (October  21,  1875), 
the  city  of  Lavaur  was  in  mourning.  An 
immense  crowd  accompanied  to  the  tomb 
the  remains  of  the  most  loved  and  venerated 
workman  in  that  part  of  the  country. 
Francis  Macary  had  been  carried  off  sud¬ 
denly.  No  suffering,  no  sickness,  no  weari¬ 
ness  had  preceded  his  sudden  death.  Th^ 
subject  of  the  Blessed  Virgin’s  favor  had  not 
been  ill:  he  had  suddenly  ceased  to  live 
on  earth,  in  order  to  enter  into  life  on  high. 
He  died  cured. 

A  friendly  pen  writes  as  follows:  “Thus 
Lazarus  was  raised  to  life,  and  then  he  died. 
So  too  have  died,  after  a  few  years  passed 
upon  earth,  all  those  personages  of  whom 
the  Gospel  records  the  supernatural  cures  by 
the  hand  of  Jesus  our  Saviour.  But  the 
health  and  the  life  to  which  they  had  been 
restored  manifested  before  the  world  the 
power  of  the  Lord.  Once  this  work  was 
accomplished,  God  permitted  them  to  die 
like  other  men,  and  enter  the  place  of  recom- 
pense. 


*  E.  Artus. 


THE  CABINET-MAKER  OF  LAYAUR.  53 


Therefore  it  is,  good  and  pious  Macary, 
that  I  can  not  see  you  again  here  below,  and 
keep  my  promise  to  visit  you.  Pray  to  God 
that  our  meeting  may  be  only  deferred,  and 
that  one  day,  with  those  whom  I  love,  we 
may  be  united  together  in  the  brilliant  light 
of  the  throne  of  God,  at  the  feet  of  her 
whose  history  I,  though  unworthy,  have 
had  the  joy  to  write,  and  whose  powerful 
hand,  to  use  your  own  words,  twice  cured 
you.  * 


La  us  Deo. 


*  The  miraculous  event,  the  details  of  which  we  have 
related,  has  furnished  the  subject  of  one  of  the  stained- 
glass  windows  of  the  Basilica  of  Lourdes, — that  of  the 
Rosary  Chapel,  the  seventh  to  the  right  on  entering. 
Francis  Macary  is  represented  at  the  moment  when  he 
affirms  his  cure  by  the  water  of  Lourdes.  On  a  table  by 
his  side  is  the  book  which  gave  him  faith.  On  the  upper 
portion  of  the  window,  Our  Lady  of  Lourdes  is  sending 
forth  upon  the  workman  the  rays  of  grace.  Called  by 
the  cries  of  happiness  which  she  hears,  the  wife  of  the 
cabinet-maker  of  Lavaur  has  her  hands  clasped  in 
thanksgiving  to  God, 


»  •,  -  •w 

.  ■  I 

j 

I 

» 

: 

I 

■ 


. 

\  '  - 
'  /  -  j--  (  '•  • 

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APPENDIX. 


We,  the  undersigned,  Charles  Macary 
(cabinet-maker),  son  of  Francis  Macary; 
Marie  Bonafous  (nee  Macary),  his  sister; 
P.  Bonafous  (priest  and  professor  at  the  - 
Petit  Seminaire),  his  nephew; — having  read 
the  history  entitled  “The  Cabinet-Maker 
of  Lavaur,”  do  hereby  attest  its  entire 
exactness.  The  facts  therein  related  are 
absolutely  such  as  Francis  Macary  related; 
such  as  we  members  of  his  family  have 
witnessed;  such  as  they  are  known  in  the 
city  of  Lavaur. 

C.  Mac  ary, 

P.  Bonafous, 

Marie  Bonafous. 

Lavaur,  June  7,  1882. 

I,  the  undersigned,  Archpriest  of  Lavaur, 
add  my  own  testimony  to  that  of  the 
Macary  family,  in  favor  of  the  authenticity 
of  the  narrative  of  Henri  Lasserre. 

Roques, 

Archpriest  of  Lavaur, 
Lavaur,  June  16,  1882. 

55 


56 


APPENDIX. 


Lagrave,  Jan.  25,  1883. 
M.  Henri  Lasserre: 

Honored  Sir:  — I  most  willingly  comply 
with  your  request  to  give  my  testimony 
regarding  the  history  you  have  written. 
Your  work  is,  in  every  particular ,  a  truthful 
narration  of  a  fact  which  will  be  one  of  the 
sweetest  memories  of  my  priestly  life.  .  .,. 
Allow  me  to  tell  you  how  true  to  life  has 
been  your  sketch  of  Francis  Macary.  ...  I 
am  convinced  that  the  few  pages  you  have 
devoted  to  him  will  be  of  great  benefit  to 
all  who  may  have  the  happiness  to  read 
them.  .  .  . 

Accept,  my  dear  sir,  my  most  profound 
respects. 

J.  Coux. 

Cure  de  Lagrave  (Diocese  d’Albi.) 


I,  the  undersigned,  testify  that  for  about 
thirty  years,  Francis  Macary,  cabinet¬ 
maker,  was  troubled  with  varicose  veins. 
The  varices,  which  were  the  thickness  of  a 
finger  and  unusually  knotted  and  winding, 
required,  up  to  the  present,  regular  compres¬ 
sion  by  bandages  and  by  dog-skin  gaiters, 


APPENDIX. 


57 


In  spite  of  these  precautions,  ulcerations  ap¬ 
peared  frequently  in  both  legs,  necessitating 
invariably  absolute  rest  and  prolonged  treat¬ 
ment.  I  visited  him  to-day,  and,  with  the 
lower  members  free  from  bandages,  etc.,  I 
could  perceive  but  very  slight  traces  of  the 
enormous  varices. 

This  case  of  spontaneous  cure  appears  to 
me  the  more  extraordinary,  because  the 
annals  of  science  mention  no  fact  of  a  like 
nature . 

Segur,  M.  D. 

Layaur,  Aug.  16,  1871. 


I,  the  undersigned,  testify  that  for  about 
thirty  years,  Francis  Macary,  cabinet-maker 
at  Lavaur,  was  attacked  by  varices  with 
enormous  nodosities,  complicated  frequently 
with  ulcerous  formations,  despite  the  con¬ 
stant  compression  of  gaiters  and  proper 
bandages;  that  these  have  suddenly  dis¬ 
appeared,  and  to-day  there  remains  but  a 
slight  node  in  the  upper  and  internal  part 
of  the  right  leg. 

Rossignol,  M.  D. 
Favaur,  Aug.  25,  1871, 


58 


appp:ndix. 


Francis  Macary,  sixty  years  of  age,  cabinet¬ 
maker  at  Lavaur,  member  of  the  Society  of 
St.  Louis,  consulted  us,  about  twenty  years 
ago,  in  regard  to  varicose  veins,  which 
affected  the  popliteal  space,  the  internal  por¬ 
tion  of  the  knee,  and  the  calf  of  the  left  leg. 
In  the  lower  part  of  the  limb,  there  was  a 
varicose  ulcer  hard  to  the  touch,  unusually 
enlarged,  and  its  tissues  very  painful.  Be¬ 
sides  these  there  were  two  old  scars,  which 
had  nothing  to  do  with  the  present  malady — 
being  the  effects  of  a  severe  burn  received 
some  twenty  years  before.  In  the  present 
case,  the  dilated  veins  were  so  many  and  the 
enlargement  so  great,  that,  so  far  as  we 
could  judge,  surgical  remedies  were  literally 
and  formally  contradictory. 

Macarv  appeared  to  us  as  one  doomed  to  a 
perpetual  infirmity  —  and  all  that  we  could 
do  was  to  prescribe  palliative  remedies,  as 
our  medical  brethren  had  done  before  us. 

Eighteen  years  later,  that  is  to  say  two 
years  ago,  Macary  came  again  to  consult  us. 
The  condition  of  his  leg  was  much  worse. 
We  repeated  our  first  declaration,  and  in¬ 
sisted  that  the  patient  should,  as  the  only 


APPENDIX. 


59 


remedy,  submit  to  absolute  rest  and  to  the 
application  of  bandages.  To-day,  Aug.  15, 
1871,  Macary  came  a  third  time.  The  ulcer 
is  perfectly  healed — no  appliances  compress 
the  limb  —  and  withal  there  exists  not  the 
slightest  trace  of  an  enlargement.  What 
strikes  us  particularly  is  that  these  varicose 
nodes  have  entirely  disappeared,  palpation 
presents  in  the  stead  minute  cords,  hard, 
bloodless  and  rolling  under  the  fingers.  The 
internal  saphena  vein  has  its  normal  size  and 
direction.  The  most  attentive  examination 
can  not  discover  any  trace  of  a  surgical 
operation. 

According  to  the  story  of  Macary,  this 
radical  cure  was  effected  in  one  night,  and 
solely  by  the  application  of  compresses  of 
water  from  the  Grotto  of  Lourdes.  In  con¬ 
clusion,  we  say  that  science  can  not  explain 
this  fact :  for  no  author  cites  a  fact  similar 
or  analogous  thereto.  All  are  agreed  upon 
these  points,  that  varices  if  left  to  themselves 
are  incurable;  that  they  are  not  cured  except 
by  palliative  means ,  and  still  less  do  they 
heal  spontaneously ;  that  they  constantly 
become  worse;  in  fine,  that  no  radical  cure 


60 


APPENDIX. 


can  be  boped  for  except  by  surgical  opera¬ 
tions  which  are  not  without  grave  danger 
to  the  patient.  And  so,  were  the  fact  af¬ 
firmed  by  Macary  not  supported  by  authen¬ 
tic  testimony  other  than  his  own,  it  would 
still  be,  at  least  for  us,  the  most  extraordi¬ 
nary  of  facts ,  nay,  a  supernatural  fact . 

Signed,  Bernet, 

Doctor  of  the  Faculty  of  Paris . 

Lavaur,  Aug.  15,  1871. 


Witnessed  for  the  legalization  of  the  above 
signatures : 

Et.  De  Yoisin,  Mayor. 
Lavaur,  Sept.  3,  1871. 


Countersigned : 

Cellieres,  Sub -Prefect. 
Layaur,  Sept.  4,  1871. 


64679 


Author 


Title 


Bapst  Library 

Boston  College 
Chestnut  Hill,  Mass.  02167 


A  NOTABLE  DISCOURSE. 


EDUCATION  AND  THE  FUTURE 
OF  RELIGION. 

By  the  RT.  Rev.  J.  L.  Spalding,  D.  D. 


We  would  like  to  quote  much  more,  but  must 
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garden  spot  of  the  world  for  the  Catholic  Church. — 
The  Independent. 

Price  5  Cents,  Including  Postage. 

THE  AVE  MARIA, 

Notre  Dame,  Indiana. 


r>* «■> 


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